


I'll be your Scarecrow

by SummerLeighWind (orphan_account)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Child Abandonment, F/M, Gen, Grandpa Evans is named Paul Evans, Mention of Vernon & Dudley Dursley, Mention of character(s) death(s), Petunia still doesn't like Harry, but not Grandma Evans, he's alive too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-20
Updated: 2013-07-31
Packaged: 2017-12-12 09:04:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/809806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/SummerLeighWind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Oh daddy, I can't do it! What if that awful wizard who killed Lily comes after my family?"</p>
<p>A little more than upset with Petunia's selfishness, Paul stands up and snaps, "If you don't want my grandson just give him to me!"</p>
<p>His daughter startles and gazes up at him with large eyes. "Are you sure daddy? He'll be...strange like Lily."</p>
<p>Stubbornly, the father stares his daughter down. "Lily was never strange Pet, she was magic."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It's late, supper several hours passed when the knocking at the door comes. Grumbling and creaking, Paul Evans puts aside his book and rises up from his seat in front of the fireplace. Shuffling towards the front room, he stretches his arms above his head and wonders who could be calling this late in the evening. More knocks resound around the small home and muttering under his breath, Paul rises his voice to shout out; "I'm coming! Just wait, okay?!"

The pounding stops, but a new noise takes over; crying. Curiously, Paul quickens his step and doesn't even stop to peer out his little peep hole when he opens his door to see his eldest daughter's long, pinched, face and in her arms, a baby. "Pet?" He inquires with a frown. Inspecting the infant's face, Paul realizes with mild surprise it's not his grandson Dudley, but little Harry. "What are you doing with Harry? Where's Lily?" He asks.

The young woman's face twists even more and in a strangled voice, she begs, "Daddy, let me come in; I'll explain once you're sitting down."

Running a hand through his thinning hair, the old man tries not to let the apprehension overwhelm him as he takes a step aside letting his daughter inside. "Let me get some tea for us," he mutters, heading towards the kitchen. Then eyeing the sniveling infant, Paul says with some decisiveness, "I'll pull out some biscuits for the little one, he has some teeth doesn't he?"

Petunia nods absently, bouncing the whimpering infant a bit harder than she does with Dudley. Putting the kettle on the stove, he takes out a box of biscuits and breaks them in halves before placing them on a plate to give his grandson. Shuffling to the table, Paul sinks into his seat and pushes the dish over to Petunia and Harry. "So," he starts, "Where's your sister?"

The woman's chin trembles, looking away she utters the worst thing a father can imagine. "She's dead daddy."

He's quiet for a long time. "Lily?" He whispers, "Our Lily?"

Tears in her eyes, Petunia warbles, "They left him on my doorstep, expecting me to just-just _take care_ of him! Dudley's already such a handful..."

The man frowns at his daughter, but allows her to go on. "Oh daddy, I can't do it! What if that awful _wizard_ who killed Lily comes after _my family_?"

A little more than upset with Petunia's selfishness, Paul stands up and snaps, "If you don't want _my_ grandson just give him to me!"

His daughter startles and gazes up at him with large eyes. "Are you sure daddy? He'll be... _strange_ like Lily."

Stubbornly, the father stares his daughter down. "Lily was never strange Pet, she was _magic_."

"And look where that got her!" Petunia screams, face red, "Dead! She's dead!" She shrieks. Falling back in her chair, Petunia begins to sob hands over eyes. "Oh god..."

Harry's begun to cry again, heartbreakingly loud wails piercing father's and daughter's ears. Holding out his hands, Paul says, "Give him to me."

Sniffling, Petunia reluctantly puts the baby in her father's hands. "I can't do it daddy, I'm _so_ scared." She confides in him.

Shushing the little boy with a rhythmic rubbing of his heaving back, Paul just stares sadly at his surviving daughter. "I understand Pet."

Eyes downcast and hands clenched to white, the woman murmurs, "I'm _sorry._ "

The baby hiccups and the grandfather kisses the baby's dark head. "Really Petunia, it's _okay._ "

The blond looks towards the front door, "I should be getting home, Vernon always gets fretful when I leave him alone with Dudley too long." She sighs.

Resting the tiny head under his chin, Paul hums. "Just come visit soon, alright?"

His daughter looks back at him. "Of course daddy." She answers. They both know she's lying.

Finally casting her gaze towards the door again, Petunia exhales. "Let me get his things for you," she says and then lips twisting slightly she murmurs, "Not that there's much."

Jogging the baby against him, Paul nods and follows his daughter out into the damp fall air. He lets her struggle with a box and a baby-bag and bring it up and set it on the stoop for him. Face flushed from the exertion, her hand finds her back and she puffs out a breath. "The box has crib-it's easy enough to put together and the bag has his blanket, some bottles, formula, diapers, etcetera, etcetera." She explains.

Smiling at his daughter (no matter how weak and false) the old man thanks her. "Thank you Pet."

For a moment, he sees his little girl in the way her eyes melt from the praise; leaning in, the woman presses a lipstick kiss to his dry, wrinkled cheek. "Bye daddy."

Reaching around to pat her back in semblance of a hug, Paul mumbles, "Goodnight Pet."

With one last smile, his daughter turns and gets in her car driving away. Watching her go and for a long time after just watching the spot he last saw her car, Paul lets the tears spill down his cheeks. "Goodbye Lily," he whispers.

"Ba" Harry sniffles against his neck.

Bringing the infant into his sights for the first time, Paul looks at the child and sees his son-in-law and dismays, but then, those puffy, red, squinted eyes widen just enough and he sees the glimmer of green that he can only call Lily's. Bringing the baby close to comfort and for comfort, the old man breathes, "I'm sorry you don't have your mommy or daddy and I'm sorry your aunt's afraid of you and I'm sorry you won't have a grandmother, but...I love you and I promise I'll be there for you always." He tells the baby.

Harry stares up at him in that strange sort of way infants do sometimes-the one that makes you think they understand everything you say-and with a half-gummy, half-toothy smile; the little boy places a hand just a tad too thin on his cheek and mumbles, "G'pa."

Grinning truly for the first time, Paul chuckles. "Yeah, I'm grandpa, did Pet tell you you'd be seeing me?"

The baby doesn't answer; instead, he snuggles up underneath Paul's chin with a body-wide yawn.

Looking to the box and bag, Paul considers them. "You know, it's late; why don't you sleep with me tonight and I'll set up the crib tomorrow?"

The baby gibbers something at his words and cuddles closer. Bending over, the grandfather drags the child's things into his home and leaves it by the door. Going through his nightly rituals, Paul Evans never puts his grandson aside-even though it takes longer than he likes-and when he settles into bed; little Harry blinking Lily's eyes at him, Paul knows things will be okay.


	2. Don't let 'em Know we're Coming

Smoothing a hand over his grandson's perpetually messy hair, Paul Evans worries not for the first time. "Don't let them talk you into things, especially about this rubbish of you savin' them from your mum and dad's murderer, okay? You're. Just. Harry." He tells the boy.

Green, solemn eyes hang to his every word. "Yes, grandpa." He agrees.

Moving both hands to squeeze the boy's shoulders, Paul glares the youth down. "I mean it," he hisses, "I'm not losing you too, got that? No heroics, none of that rebelliousness either; I want you _safe_." He chokes.

Reaching forward, the boy-nearly at his grandfather's neck-hugs him close. "I know grandpa," he murmurs hoarse, "I'll be good."

Clinging to the child with all his frail strength, the old man moans pained. "You're mum would of been _so_ proud Harry, prouder than every mother here."

Pulling away, Harry grins at Paul. "I don't know grandpa," he smirks, "There are _a lot_ of mums here."

Chuckling, the grandfather nods. "That's true, but you're mum always was competitive." He remarks.

Harry smiles a little, "So, how do I get to this platform of nine and three fourths?" He inquires idly looking about King Cross. Grinning, Paul leans in close to his grandson and points towards a rather normal looking column.

"See that one there?" He inquires. The boy bobs his head. "Well, you run straight through an' you'll be on the magical side of things."

A nervous gleam comes to the child's green eyes. "You mean that grandpa? You're not pulling my leg?" He questions.

Scoffing, Paul shakes his head. "Have I ever steered you wrong about magic?"

The boy considers this. "Well, other than santa, I can't say you have." The boy agrees.

Patting the youngster's back, Paul accepts the answer. "Good, now, I got this letter here for you.." he riffles in his pocket long enough to pull out a rather formal looking letter. "I found some old parchment and such you're mum left behind about a year back; I used it to write this letter." He explains.

Taking it from his grandfather, Harry turns it in his hand and reads the name written on it. "Sev-er-us Snape." He says.

Paul nods. "He and your mum were good friends for a while, it's a shame they didn't stay so; he was a bright lad." He mutters, but shaking it off, he says to Harry, "Find him, I hear he teaches at Hogwarts these days and give it to him."

Harry tucks it away into his pocket. "...What if he believes the rubbish?" he inquires.

The man considers. "That boy always had a good head, though, it got him into trouble with the like-minded sort; if he's like the rest I say don't bother." He replies eventually. Bending down for one last swift kiss to the askew dark hair, Paul gives the boy a firm push in the direction of the platform. "Go on," He says, "Don't forget to right little old me, okay?"

Harry giggles, "I won't!" He shouts, "By grandpa!" And with a final wave he rushes the column with all his things and enter the magic world.

* * *

"Watch where you're going!" A rat-like blond snaps, nearly running Harry over with his things.

Shuffling away, he blinks owlishly from behind his glasses. "Sorry." He murmurs, quickly slinking away and for the rather magnificent train docked nearby. Walking towards it, he glances around and sees a rather familiar scene. An old woman fusses with a boy and the only other with them is an old man; sympathetically, Harry wonders if this boy wasn't orphaned much like he was. Waiting nearby curiously, he sees the boy turn bright red and have a gift handed to him before he hurries off towards the train.

Stepping in his way, Harry pretends not to realize he's there and let's himself get tripped up with the other. "Sorry!" The other boy exclaims.

Picking himself up with only a bruise or two to claim from his plan, Harry grins and holds a hand out. "Not a problem mate," he answers, "My name's Harry, what's yours?"

The child pales and then reddens with frightening speed as he stutters out, "N-Neville Longbottom." Shaking the other's hand, Harry only smiles.

"Good name." Harry compliments, "Wanna sit with me on the train?" He inquires.

Longbottom looks a little shocked. "Y-You really want me to?" He whispers.

Harry frowns. "Wouldn't ask if I didn't want you to, Neville." He tells him.

"Oh," he murmurs, "I't just-" Looking at Harry, he questions, "You _do_ know you're famous, don't you?"

Harry shrugs. "Sure, but, it's silly; _I_ didn't save anyone, if anything, my mum probably saved me." He answers; this is something him and his grandfather had gone over many times in the last month since his visit to the magic world for supplies.

Neville's eyes soften. "Everyone always told me my mum and dad saved me cause they wouldn't tell you-know-who where they hid me." He says to Harry in comparison.

Chest hurting with phantom pain for a boy with an echo of a life like his own, Harry nods. "They did, I bet, mums and dads do a lot of things for their kids." He replies.

The two of them contemplate this and begin the walk to the train, inspecting the cabins, they find nearly all are full until they come to one occupied by a lone child of frizzy brown hair. Opening the door, Harry calls, "Hullo?"

The child looks up and Harry sees it for what it is-a girl. She smiles nervously. "Hi," she answers, "You guys can stay here if you like."

"Really?" Harry smiles, "We were hopin' you'd let us sit with you." She grins back at him and ushering in Neville the two boys set up under the girl's observations.

"What house do you want to be in?" She asks suddenly.

"Gryffindor," Neville answers quickly. "Gran would be really happy if I went there." He says.

Hermione smiles at this. "I'd like to be there too, I think," then glancing to the book in her lap she adds "Or Ravenclaw."

Slouching forward on his hands, Harry supplies his own answer. "I'd like to be in Hufflepuff or Slytherin."

Neville looks at him. "Those are interesting choices." He mutters.

Defensively, Harry hisses. "Nothing wrong with either of 'em, my mum was friends with a Slytherin."

A confused look comes to Neville's eye. "Who?" He asks.

"Severus Snape!" Harry proclaims quite proud. "My grandpa says he's right smart."

"I hear he's quite horrid." Neville sighs miserably.

Hermione looks between the two of them. "We'll just have to wait and see won't we?" She remarks neutrally.

"We will, erm, what's you're name?" Harry inquires of the girl.

"Hermione Granger." She smiles.

Harry grins back. "Nice to meet you." He replies and with little else, looks out as the train begins to move.

Kicking his legs, Harry considers the magic to come. He'll miss grandpa and feeding the neighborhood stray Looney, but grandpa promised if he kept up his marks next summer he could get a witch-familiar cat, so it won't be so bad. Humming a little tune under his breath, Harry can hardly contain himself to meet the world he's only heard of from stories his grandpa told him or letters grandpa gave him from his mum. So what if he's famous? All sorts of people are famous and they can live almost regular live, besides, once everyone realizes he isn't particularly interesting, they'll stop fussing; just like when Harry broke his leg, everyone in class wanted to help him get around school. But, when they realized how much trouble it was, everyone except a couple of kids left him alone and things returned to being like every other school day (besides the broken leg, that is).

Smiling out the window, Harry whispers, "This is the coolest thing you'll ever do, become a _wizard_."


	3. All Eyes (are on you)

Walking into the Great Hall, Harry doesn't ever let go of his new cat Proserpina. Gaze flickering to the professor's table, he see's Professor Snape lift his glass and hold it a bit longer than needed before taking a sip. Grinning, the bespectacled boy tweaks his kneazle's white ear tuft and feels a great deal of gratitude towards the man. Just as Grandpa had promised, after a year of hard work and good behavior he was gifted a familiar for his second year at Hogwarts. Jostling the cat as she becomes heavy, Proserpina grumbles something deep in her belly that makes Harry cluck at her as he heads for the Hufflepuff table. Taking a seat towards one end, the messy haired youth finally lets his familiar down so she may explore her new home more in depth.

Looking to the Gryffindor table, he sees Neville and gives the shy boy a wave which he meets in kind and then to the Ravenclaw table, where Hermione glances up just long enough from her book to see Harry and Neville looking her direction. She grins at them, mouthing "Hullo", but before the trio can fall into a silent conversation of silent words, facial expressions and hand signals, Headmaster taps his glass marking the beginning of the sorting ceremony. Settling in, the bespectacled boy reaches beneath the table; running one hand down his cats heavy mahogany coat and waits for the sorting to finish so he may feast on food he hasn't eaten all summer.

Watching the feast come to a close, Harry lets out a breathless laugh when the food disappear so suddenly; it earns him a smile from Cedric Diggory-one of his favorite upperclassman.

"Must be quite fun to watch dishes disappear after a summer of having to wash them," he comments.

Harry nods. "Oh yeah," he agrees, "Grandpa's really adamant about keeping the kitchen clean-says granny would turn over in her grave it was any other way."

The older boy nods in understanding. "My mum's almost the same, she doesn't use cleaning spells because she doesn't think they do as good a job as a real person." He explains, which earns another laugh from Harry.

Glancing up from Cedric, Harry sees Hermione making exaggerated eyes at him as she jerks her head towards the door. Frowning a bit, Harry apologizes to the older Hufflepuff. "I got to go, I promised Hermione and Neville I'd meet with them after dinner."

The older years waves him off. "Who am I to hold you up?" He chuckles, "Go on, Harry."

Scrambling up, Harry casts "Thank you!" and hurries to catch up to Hermione.

The frizzy haired girl smiles at him as he takes his place at her side. "Did you see our new DADA professor?" She asks.

Harry scowls a bit. "Unfortunately," he admits, "He forced me into a _picture,_ 'mione, a _picture_!"

The girl's eyes dew with sympathy. "That got pretty old after the day Collin Creevey snapped a picture of you every chance he got, huh?"

"Yeah," Harry sighs. "So, is Neville in the library?"

The Ravenclaw's head bobbed in acknowledgement. "Yes, I sent him off to get us a table." She tells Harry.

Taking a turn, Harry catches sight of a redheaded girl-Ginny Weasley, if he remembers right. The one with the brother Ron who looks at him as if he personally offended him somehow, Neville thinks it's because Ron was sure as the boy-who-lived he'd _have_ to be in Gryffindor. Not so. Obviously. Yet, studying the girl a bit further, he sees her eyes look at him as if he's all she ever expected and wanted. It makes his head spin, _no one's_ every looked at him like that-not even _grandpa_. People have such grandiose expectations of him that it pains him to even talk to most people and while grandpa may not have those expectations, he has once in a while gazed at Harry as if he wasn't ideal.

 _"Sometimes, if it weren't for that smile or those eyes...I'd think you weren't Lily's son_. _"_

The remembrance of his grandfather's words still sting him, he knows the man hadn't meant to hurt him; but it _had._

"You alright there Harry?" Hermione asks, pulling a frightfully concerned face.

"Peachy," he chirps, "Just hoping this years quieter than last year."

"Ah...yes, I do too." The brunette agrees. Neither of them wish to think to hard on close Harry had been to being killed-that is if Professor Snape hadn't set them straight about him the Quirrell being the whole agent of Voldemort and it _not_ being him. Thankfully, as Snape had later said, it had been taken care of (no one wants to imagine how).

Entering the library, Neville stands from his seat and waves them over. "Hey mates," He greets, smiling at the two of them. Hermione and Harry murmur similar greetings before turning to useless chatter. It's at least an hour before the librarian is at their table glaring down at them.

"Off to your dorms with you," she orders, "Curfew's only a bit away."

"Thanks," Harry accepts getting up along with the rest of his trio.

A little while later, after dropping Hermione off at the Ravenclaw dorms Neville and Harry approach the Gryffindor common room. Stopping before the Fat Lady's portrait, Harry tells Neville; "Why don't you tell Ginny Weasley she can hang out with us some time."

Doubtful, Neville studies Harry. "Are you sure? Her brother-"

A mean glower on his face, Harry crosses his arms and cuts in viciously. "Isn't her." Neville's mouth gapes for words as Harry finds the words to strike deep. "You and me should know this better than _anyone_ , you aren't your family."

Neville deflates. "I know," he sighs, "Ron's not even _that_ bad...it's just once he gets his mind made up on something he doesn't ever change it and-"

"Neville," Harry rebukes.

"Right," The other smiles, "Sorry." Looking thoughtfully at the waiting portrait he mumbles. "Maybe she's nice? Anyway, 'mione probably would like having a girl to talk to."

Harry puckers his mouth in confusion. "What about her dormmates? They're girls right? She talks with them, doesn't she?" He inquires.

Neville shakes his head. "Harry, you get on with _everyone_ well enough. Me an' 'mione though? We're odd balls in our houses."

Guiltily, Harry looks to his feet. "I'm sorry."

Putting a hand on his mate's shoulder. Neville grins to forget it all, "Don't worry too much, okay?" Taking a breath he says, "I'll talk to Ginny; now, night Harry."

"Night Nevs," Harry echoes, letting his feet wander him down the corridors of the castle and maybe-eventually-to his dorm.


End file.
